Mike Arluck: Facing depression and seeking proper help

Spring is just around the corner, and while love is soon to permeate the air, so are thoughts of suicide. As odd as it may sound, the same conditions which make most of us long for courtship are also associated with an increase in suicide rates — especially in us college students. The Daily Pennsylvanian is pretty good about reminding us of the prevalence of depression on college campuses — usually about 10 percent. The strange thing is, no one ever talks about any of this. But I’m afraid that the consequences of this taboo are simply too grave for me to remain silent any longer.

At any time, there are thousands of people in the Penn community — both students and faculty — who are enveloped in despair. Many of them are suffering in isolation and for some of them, suicide might seem like the only way out. I know this not only because of the statistics, but because I was once one of those people. Although it is tremendously difficult for me to write this, if in doing so I can help just one person, it will have been worth it.

I suffer from unipolar depression, which basically means that my brain does not naturally produce enough of the neurotransmitter serotonin. As a result of this chemical imbalance, I have a greater tendency to get down about things than the average person does. I imagine a great deal of my friends will be shocked to learn this of me. “Arluck?” they will say as they read this. “Depressed? What, are you kidding me? That kid’s the most fun-loving guy I know! When was the last time you saw him without a smile on his face?”

My latest bout with depression occurred during my sophomore year of college and in the wake of 9/11. The disease was downright disabling, bringing me to my knees with feelings of despair and meaninglessness. There were times when I could neither muster the energy nor the will to get out of bed, and often I did not. Despite being miserable and what I now consider to be absolutely bonkers, I was a functional bonkers. I somehow managed to pull a baseball cap over my face and drag myself to enough classes to pass them all. But I was a complete head case, and for that time, my life might as well have ceased to be.

There were times when I was convinced I would never be happy again. I had never before felt so helpless and alone. Fortunately, my mom detected early on that something was not right and helped me to find counseling. With the assistance of a very talented psychologist, I managed to pull through.

Talk therapy provided me with a great deal of insight, but I have found that what really tips the scales is medication. Since I began taking the antidepressant Celexa, I feel more “myself” than ever. I am more confident, focused and energetic, and above all, I am living and loving my life. It’s hard for me to imagine how I could have once felt so hopeless.

In retrospect, I am also struck by how isolated I felt despite the fact that I was no doubt surrounded by people suffering from the same illness. From what I’m told, we’re all in pretty good company. It seems that history is replete with depressives who went on to make fairly good names for themselves. Have you ever heard of Abraham Lincoln, Winston Churchill or J.P. Morgan? How about Harrison Ford, Sheryl Crow, Ted Turner or Terry Bradshaw? Each one of them struggled or struggles with depression.

If there is anything that their lives can tell us, it’s that there is no rationality in who gets this disease. Even more importantly, we should realize that this illness doesn’t have to stop us from living happy, fulfilling lives.

Fortunately, we live in a time and place where depression is a highly treatable illness. If you think you or someone you know might be suffering from depression, please get help. There’s no point in suffering when you don’t have to. For those of you out there who are in pain, remember that no matter how inconceivable it may seem to you right now, you will feel better again.

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